Chapter Nine
Tears pricked at Kaitlin’s eyes, and she dashed a hand across them.
Hope was a terrible thing.
What had she expected? That he’d be back in five minutes with the answer that they were all alive and well?
It hadn’t happened that way.
Two goddamn days. And nothing.
Had they done it on purpose? Her goddamn behavioral scientist? Had he built her up, knowing the waiting would tear her apart?
She blinked hard before the tears could fall. She never cried. She hadn’t since Sam, and she wasn’t going to let that little weasel break her. She sniffed and got up from the bed. There was no mirror, but she could imagine what she looked like. She crossed into the tiny bathroom alcove and splashed some cold water on her face, and was wiping it on the scratchy towel when she sensed someone approaching.
She threw the towel down and hurried back, sat on the cot, and tried to look relaxed.
It was the doctor. She struggled to keep her hope within manageable proportions, and her face blank. Even as the door opened, she plucked the information from his mind and was on her feet as he stepped through.
They were alive.
She almost stumbled with the overwhelming relief. Pure joy poured through her. But she bit down hard on her lower lip to stop her grin; it wouldn’t do to let him know how much this meant to her.
“Kaitlin.” He nodded to her. “I have some good news.”
“I know. Take me to them.”
She searched his mind as she followed him down the corridor. He knew little else. He’d put in her request after he’d left her two days ago, and the reply had come through yesterday. He’d spent the time since then getting a room ready with the shielding. All he knew of her friends was that they were alive. They had their own doctors. He was here purely to work with her.
She tried to reach out with her mind, searching for Jake, trying to make contact, but there was still too much of the drug in her system, and her powers were limited. She couldn’t reach the others, either.
She kept her breathing slow and steady, but adrenaline was zinging in her blood. This was the first time she had been out of that cell in months. She felt disorientated, shaky. What if it was all some lie to get her hopes up and then—
“The guards tell me you haven’t been eating,” the doctor said.
That explained the shakiness. She hadn’t thought about it much but no, she’d not been eating. Her appetite had been bad since she got here—probably due to lack of fresh air, the drugs, no exercise—and in the last couple of days, it had been nonexistent. She hadn’t touched her breakfast that morning. Or her dinner the night before.
At last they stopped, and she held her breath. She could read nothing through the door. It had obviously been shielded. Were they there?
She’d never been alone in her life before this. She’d always had Sam and then later, Jake and the rest of the Tribe. They’d been so close, and she hadn’t realized how much she had relied on that bond, that intimacy, until she’d been isolated.
Then the door opened and her mind flooded with their thoughts.
Dexter, Connor, and Stefan. They were so beautiful, she nearly burst into tears. She caught herself—she didn’t want them to think she’d totally lost it.
Only Teagan wasn’t here. She’d been injured in the attack when they were taken, but she would have survived…if they hadn’t killed her, trying to force Jake to come in. That had been Kane’s doing.
All three guys were tall, with the pale skin and dark blue eyes of all the Tribe. They were dressed as she was, in gray sweats and T-shirts. They’d all lost weight since she’d last seen them and all had dark shadows under their eyes, and six months’ worth of beards on their cheeks. But they were essentially unharmed. And they were still the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her entire life. She stood for a moment, just staring, as she absorbed everything. They were pleased to see her as well, and she could feel an inane grin forming on her face.
She took a step inside the room. “You guys look like shit.”
“And you look totally and completely beautiful.” That was Dex. He’d thought she was dead. They all had. She was about to fall apart, but she managed to hold everything together tight so she wouldn’t lose it.
“Let it go,” Stefan said, opening his arms.
She did and her mind cracked open. She took the last few steps, and his arms wrapped around her, and suddenly, she was crying and not even trying to stop the tears. Stefan rubbed her back, while Dex rested his hand on one shoulder, Connor on the other. They’d never been much for physical touching—as a group, they hadn’t needed it—but now love and warmth flowed through her.
She sniffed and stepped back. “I’m starving. Otherwise, I really wouldn’t be going all mushy like this.”
“Of course not,” Stefan murmured.
The doctor cleared his throat, and she turned reluctantly to face him.
“You have half an hour,” he said. He stepped back and out of the room, the guards following him, and the door clicked shut behind them, leaving the four of them alone.
She looked around. The room wasn’t large, but some effort had been made to make it not look like a cell. Although there were no windows, the place was light and airy, the walls painted a pale yellow instead of plain white. There were two sofas with a table in between them. A tray stood on the table with coffee and a plate of sugar-covered doughnuts. Her stomach rumbled. Suddenly, she was starving.
Stefan laughed and tugged her to the sofa, pushed her gently down, and handed her a doughnut. The others also sat, and for a minute they all ate. She could sense their hunger—she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been eating. She ate a second doughnut, then poured herself a cup of coffee and sat back.
“So how do we get the hell out of here?” she asked. “Because doughnuts aside, the hospitality sucks.”
Dex chuckled, but then went serious. “I wish I knew.”
“We have to presume the others think we’re dead, or they would have found us by now.”
“There’s no way to find us, not while we’re shielded. We have to get out of here. At least out of this room.”
Dex got up, went and tried the door. Of course it was locked, and he shrugged, then came and sat down next to her, searching her face. “Have you been okay? They haven’t hurt you?”
“Not so much. I’m alive, and once I’m out of here and I’ve killed that fucker Kane, I’ll be fine.”
He smiled. “You always were a bloodthirsty little thing.”
“Not so much of the little.” She sighed and put down her cup, looking around the room. “So what do we do? This is all very nice”—she waved a hand at her surroundings—“but I’m guessing it’s just a tactic to get our cooperation.”
“Why now, though? What’s changed?”
“I don’t know. The guy who brought me here knows nothing. They tell him only what he needs to know.”
“I think we should go along with them,” Stefan said. “Find out what they want, and see if we can’t get a little freedom. If they don’t know what we can do, maybe we can use that. See if we can get access to a computer or a phone.”
“Unlikely,” Dex said. “But right now, it’s the best we’ve got.”
“So we go along with them?”
They all nodded. She didn’t like it, none of them did, but there was little choice. For now. But she already felt stronger. Just knowing they were here and alive, unharmed, gave her back some of her hope.
The door opened and the doctor entered, followed by the guards. He’d been given new instructions, and he wasn’t happy.
“I have a few days to get your cooperation,” he said. “After that…”
She plucked the thought from his horrified mind. “After that…one of us dies.”
…
Ethan had been telling the truth, he hadn’t let her out of his sight. Though right now, he had his back to her. What a gentleman.
They were at his place, a penthouse in a new tower block on the Isle of Dogs. Fergus had driven them here. Fergus didn’t like her, and he certainly didn’t trust her with his precious boss. While she was on the scene, he planned to stick close as well. Right now, he was out in the sitting room, pacing and wondering whether he should say something. He was worried Ethan was acting out of character. Apparently, Ethan had never had a proper girlfriend in the whole time he’d known Fergus.
And why did she like that idea?
Because he’s mine.
No, he wasn’t, and she had to stop thinking those sorts of thoughts.
She left Fergus to his pacing and turned her attention to Ethan. He had his hands shoved in his pants pockets as he stared out of the window. He had broad shoulders tapering to lean hips and a great ass.
She sighed and tried to concentrate on the task at hand: choosing what to wear. Apparently, she needed to look the part of his personal assistant if anyone was going to believe the ruse. He’d made a call from the car, and this was the result. The bed was piled with clothes, all of them so not her. “Do I really need to wear this shit?”
“Yes.”
A man of many words. He was obviously used to people doing as they were told. She wanted to argue some more, but she also wanted to get out of there and go to Ethan’s office. She’d told Rose the address last night, and she was betting Jake would have someone watching the place. So she was going to have to suck it up and play nice. For now.
After poking through the pile of clothes, she settled on a black pencil skirt and a white silk blouse. She selected a pair of black lace panties—but discarded the matching bra, she almost never wore one—and black stockings because it was cold out.
As she pulled the T-shirt over her head, he turned around. She went still. His gaze dropped as he took her in, and heat filled his eyes. She resisted the urge to take a peek in his head. It probably wasn’t a good idea to know what he was thinking right now. Her nipples peaked, and a tingle ran down through her belly, flooding her sex with heat.
She’d always used sex as a relaxant, and it had been too long. Her body was clamoring for release, and it wasn’t getting any here and now.
She ignored him, just to prove to herself that she could, and wriggled out of her leather pants and stripped off her panties, so she was naked. Then she slipped on the clean ones. He didn’t shift, but she could sense the need in him. He had a willpower stronger than hers, and he held himself still while watching her every move.
“You like?” she asked as she slipped the silk shirt over her shoulders and slowly fastened the buttons.
“Don’t you know?”
She didn’t answer, just rolled the black stockings up her legs, a sort of striptease in reverse. Then she put on the skirt and finally slipped her feet into black court shoes with a three-inch heel.
She did a twirl. “Do I look the part?”
“You’ll do.”
She had the urge to bait him. He was too cool, and it was starting to irritate her. She gave in and slipped into his mind. He wanted her but refused to be a slave to those wants. He was doing everything he could to keep an emotional distance from her. Fergus was right, she was trouble. And it was not inconceivable that he might still have to give the order, have her killed.
She pursed her lips, and strolled toward him, coming to a halt only inches away. She breathed in the warm male scent of him, familiar from her dreams. She hadn’t meant to touch him—she also might need to make a difficult decision—but something was goading her on. Maybe she needed to shatter his belief that he could resist her.
Resting her hand on his chest, she felt the thud of his heart beneath her palm. “You mean you can’t kiss me then kill me,” she murmured.
“Fuck.”
“What? You forgot I could read your mind?”
“I was momentarily distracted.”
She leaned in a little closer. He was telling himself to back away, but still, he stood there, and a small smile tugged at her lips. She trailed her hand over his chest, curled it around the back of his neck.
“Just one kiss,” she whispered. “So we can both prove we can back away…or not.”
Shock flared in his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t realized she was as tempted as he was. Tugging his head down toward her, she stared into his golden eyes as she came up on her tiptoes. Her lips touched his and fire shot though her blood. It was just the lightest of touches, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
He took control of the kiss, his hands gliding down her back, over her ass, pulling her closer as his tongue thrust hot and wet into her mouth. He tasted sharp, spicy and familiar. With that thought, she fought the need, but was caught up now, helpless to break the contact. God, he felt good. He was urging her backward, and she banged into the edge of the bed with the backs of her legs. Then she was falling, landing in the pile of clothes without breaking the kiss, his big, solid body coming down on top of her.
The hard length of his erection pressed against her belly, and she wriggled, trying to get it where she needed it the most. The stupid skirt was too tight and wouldn’t allow her to part her thighs. Frustration raised a growl low down in her throat. She bit at his lower lip as his hand slipped down over her thighs, found the hem of the skirt, and pushed upward. Her breathing was short and sharp. She needed him to touch her, she needed him inside her. Or was it his need washing through her?
It didn’t matter, all that mattered was—
A pounding sounded at the door, and they both went still.
“Boss, the car’s ready for you.”
Fergus.
She waited for Ethan to get off her. But his big body stayed firmly in place. He held her gaze as his hand moved beneath her skirt, hesitating as he reached the bare skin at the top of her stockings, then he touched her lightly between her thighs and the world stopped. Her lashes fluttered closed, and for a second, she just let herself feel. He rubbed the finger along the seam of her sex, through the lace of the panties, and her hips rose as tingles ran through her, coalescing in her nipples, between her thighs.
“You want me?”
Her lids flew open at his words, and she forced herself back into control. “Well, you don’t have to be a mind reader to know that.”
“No, I can feel you hot and wet.”
She took a deep breath, slid her hand between them, and pushed. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to shift. The knock came again. “Fergus is right. This would be a really bad idea.”
His eyes widened. “You’re reading Fergus?”
“Well, you didn’t think you were my one and only did you. Sorry, darling, but we aren’t exclusive.”
“Bitch.” But he pushed himself up. She lay there for a moment, admiring the bulge at his groin. God, she wanted that erection. But it really was a bad idea. She blew out a breath, got to her feet, and straightened her skirt. Then she turned back to the bed, dug about in the pile of clothes and found the matching jacket, and put it on. At least it covered her nipples, which were poking at the silk of the shirt, super sensitive and wanting some attention. Not going to happen.
When she opened the door, Fergus stood there, his hand raised ready to pound some more. He thought they’d been fucking in here.
She patted him on the arm as she went past. “Don’t worry. His virtue is safe. You got us in time.”
He glanced from her to where Ethan stood behind her. His eyes narrowed, and then he handed Ethan his jacket. “You said no more than thirty minutes.”
She peered over her shoulder. “Why, Ethan, darling, don’t you trust yourself alone with me?”
“Hell, no. Let’s go.”
The car pulled up at the front of the office building. Fergus got out and opened the door for her. As she climbed out, she searched the area with her mind, hunting for a contact. When she didn’t find anyone, she hesitated.
They had to be here.
This time she explored with her eyes. And found the colonel. He was standing in a doorway opposite her. His eyes caught hers briefly, and then he walked away. She didn’t linger on him, not wanting to draw attention. Instead, she followed Ethan up the steps and through the sliding glass doors and into the reception area. There was a security checkpoint manned by two men in uniform, complete with a walk-through scanner. They waved Ethan and Fergus through the doorway to the side—clearly, they weren’t a security risk.
“She’s Category 1,” Ethan said, and they nodded and gestured for her to walk through the scanner. Even though she was unarmed, she held her breath waiting for the machine to light up, alarms to ring. Luckily it couldn’t pick up bad thoughts and she was through.
“Anybody would think you were up to no good here,” she murmured as the elevator doors closed. “So what’s category 1?”
“Dodgy as hell,” Ethan replied, and she laughed.
“Dodgy?”
“Okay, maybe dangerous is a better word.”
“A little better.” She nodded to Fergus who’d entered the elevator with them and was staring straight ahead, his expression grim. She didn’t have to look into his mind to see he wasn’t happy with the situation. “Does he go everywhere with you?” she asked.
“He’s my assistant.”
She pouted. “I thought I was your assistant. I bet I can do more for you than Fergus can. Maybe he’s jealous.” She knew for a fact that he wasn’t. He just didn’t trust her, which was probably very sensible of him. “So what am I supposed to do as your personal assistant? Because I warn you, I don’t type and I don’t take dictation.”
He glanced down at her. “I’ll find something for you to do.”
She was suddenly extremely aware of her body, the silk against her skin. Trouble was, she knew exactly what he was thinking. An image flashed in her mind: she was straddling him in his big leather chair, skirt hiked up around her hips, his mouth at her breasts. Heat washed through her. She’d never thought of telepathy as foreplay before, but it was actually extremely effective.
Beside her, Fergus cleared his throat.
“I think we’re embarrassing Fergus,” she said. “And we’re not even touching.”
The elevator doors opened at that moment into another reception area.
“I want to talk to you,” Fergus said to Ethan as they crossed the room.
She knew exactly what Fergus wanted to talk about, and she also knew that Ethan wanted to tell the other man about her little superpower.
Would that be a problem?
Probably no, because if, or rather when, they took the Conclave down, chances were Fergus would be going down as well, though, in fact, his loyalty wasn’t to the Conclave but to Ethan himself. And she liked him for that, though, it really shouldn’t have mattered.
Ethan looked from Fergus to her, and she gave a little shrug. “Feel free.” She waved a hand around the room. “I’ll wait here, and make myself at home.”
He pressed a button on his wrist, and she heard the click of locks around the room.
“In case of attack,” he said. “Now I know you’ll be safe.”
“Sweet of you to care.”
As they disappeared into the inner office and the door shut behind them, the strength went out of her, and she crossed to the sofa along one wall and sank down. The lack of real sleep—drugs didn’t count—and all that had happened was taking its toll, sapping her strength. She didn’t even have the energy to reach out and check what they were talking about. But she could guess. Fergus was no doubt telling him that she was trouble and he shouldn’t trust her and…blah, blah, blah.
All she had to do was sit and wait for Jake to make contact. After they’d “talked,” she could decide on her next move. And figure out how she was going to keep her distance so when the time came to eliminate her dream lover—who was one hell of a kisser—she wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.
But she hoped Jake would make contact soon, because any more kisses like the last one and all bets were off.